The Young One
by dp03kf
Summary: Rating for Future language and events, One stormy night in New York, a minor, with no hope for himself or anything else come to find a home with three professors in parapsychology. PreMovie and going from there. Chap 2 up please REVIEW!
1. Hopeless

Hello, once again, I'm back. Just took a long break and then had the worst of writers block, don't worry, it's gone now, but now I'm going to try and focus on this one story now.Hopfully, I can get a lot more of good, postivereviews then my last one. But anyway enjoy and Idon't own Ghostbuster oranything else metioned in this story.Read and Hopefully, ENJOY!

The Young One

A storm ran swiftly through the streets of New York, as if God had heard the cries of a tragedy committed in the streets below, and was showing the city the pain and repercussions. Through the rainy sheet that spread across the city that night, a lone boy walked in the empty streets. To make a correction, the boy was more or less struggling to stand on his own than walking, dragging his legs across the concrete, which scratched his shoes (or what were left of them). Gripping what remained of his left arm; he pulled it up and tried to keep more blood from pouring out of the wound. Cuts ran up and down his face as his lips gushed blood from his mouth.

The only sound that issued forth, despite the rain against the sidewalk, was a sword, a katana to be exact clutched in his bloody hand. The rain washed away most of the blood that stained upon the katana's thin steel blade.

Through the pounding pain in his body, he continued on, in search of sanctuary, a place where he could heal and then continue on his quest; a quest to find who he truly was. The tears from the sky, for that is what they seemed, continued to drip inside the gashes on his face as he dragged himself across the wet streets of the New York City. Nevertheless, he continued to think back on the events that had taken place that had brought to such a lowly state. He was once again been wandering the streets when he was taken on by street-punks.

If that was not bad enough he had been led into a trap by the surviving members of the clan that he and his family had brought down; fighting just to survive, as he was out-matched in every possible way. He tried to escape from them, but each time he turned, there was another group waiting for him. He was pushed and tricked into a dead-end, where he had to stand and fight with his back against the wall. Now, looking back he could only remember bit and pieces of the struggle… Challenging what seemed like hundreds of thousands of black-fitted warriors, he had fought bravely on, even through the endless beatings as his body hit the ground. It took most of his strength just to stay conscience through it all. His two short staffs were broken right in front of him, as his own blood blinded him; it had been too much for him to handle. Nevertheless, he fought on, through the torture, the pain, the fading hope that one of his brothers will come and save him. Despite the odds against him he had killed every all of them… slaying the leader with his own sword and then struggling down the alley just as the storm began.

Despite the horror that he had he had endured, one thought kept crossing his mind, he had won. He had gone up against incredible odds and came out victorious. He defeated his enemies to the death and was alive to tell about it…well, for now anyway. He didn't know how much longer he could walk. It had taken all of his will power just to win that battle and get out of the alley. He didn't know what was making him go on, but he felt his body crying out more and more to give up. Yet, he pushed on. _Just to this corner. _He thought. _I can get help there at the next corner._ However, he knew that help wasn't around the corner, the next corner, or any corner for that matter. No one could help him this late at night, he didn't even know if anyone would help him in broad daylight, especially in this city! He just had to push on and find a safe place to sleep for the night and hope he would wake up the next day.

Therefore, he pushed on through the night, limping past streetlights and street corners every so often. Every moment, that he felt his body giving up, he forced it to move on, after of a minute of rest.

Finally, after what seemed to be hours of waling, his vision began to blur in front of him and he began to sway left and right. He felt the coldness of death streak over his body and an unknown darkness began to fall over him. He tried to shake the feeling away, but death was slowly clawing through his body. "NO!" he whispered into the rain stricken street. "Must…..push…….on…….." His body finally went limp as he tripped over a trash can on the side of the street. The streetlight over him cast its bright golden light upon him as he let the rain pour over his cuts and gashes. _I should have never left. _He thought as he felt the darkness take over him. His eye lids closed as he accepted his fate to the heavens. He tightly gripped his sword in his hand, hoping it would be with him in the after-life. He heard the rain hit the pavement around him as he made peace with himself. The darkness surrounded him more and finally he succumbed to it. As the darkness fell he thought he heard a voice call out to him. "Sensei" he said out through the darkness, "Forgive me for my mistake…."


	2. What a night!

Authour's Notes: Sorry about the delay so okay short version, no computer. So here it is the second chapter. I don't own Ghostbusters or anything else that comes up in this fan-fiction but I do own the OC. Thanks for your support.

In his apartment, Peter Venkman stood in front of his refrigerator and couldn't come to terms with it. It seemed as if things were going from bad to worse and he was once again getting blamed. Yeah, he and the club bouncer weren't seeing eye to eye or more literally eye to big fat chest if you asked him, but it wasn't his fault that the guy didn't have a sense of humor. Heck, it didn't mean that he was too much of a "smart aleck" to get in there.

It was his idea for his fellow scientists to go get a drink or two and have a night on the town. In fact it was more like a welcoming party to their new partner in the parapsychology department, Ray Stantz, and man was he in need of some excitement in his life! I mean the grown man still read Captain Steel. Captain Steel! But compared to Ray, Egon Spengler was a social black hole. He was one of those geniuses who often had nearly fatal accidents with buses because his nose was always in a stupid book or he was fiddling with that little gizmo of his. Not to mention that the man's idea of fun was collecting mold. Collecting fungus as a hobby, what kind of hobby was that! Being the sociable, good citizen that he was, he decided that it was duty as a person to take these guys out and show them the meaning of a good time that didn't involve labs, comics, or mold. Then after the incident with the dumb muscle and some driving around they were able to find a good bar with some of the hottest women New York had to offer.

Then after a few drinks, a few misses with the ladies, and sadly some embarrassing moments involving Ray asking a woman (who was just throwing herself at him!) if she needed a ride home because he thought she was drunk and Egon asking a woman if he could measure her head then do a brain scan on her. Peter submitted to defeat and decided to bring the guys home. As they were driving home they crossed paths with a dumb ass that was driving drunk and crashed into them. They all got out of it with just a few scratches each, but the car wasn't so lucky. Then, not only did they have to take a bus back to the University to get Ray's car, but he had to pay for the bill for the car and the hospital. Well, this night turned out great but no…it gets better; he comes home late, can't go to sleep because of the near fatal car accident, goes to get some cereal only to find...no milk! He forgot that Ray drank it all the last time he was here. _Ray and his stupid strong bones,_ Venkman thought as he looked at the empty carton of milk.

"This is just a wonderful night for Dr. Venkman ladies and gentlemen," he said out loud. "not only does he not get laid tonight, but he has to go out in the middle of the night in the dark streets of New York. Heck, with his luck he might even get mugged or even better, be another victim of a horrible homicide. He cheated death once tonight folks, can he do it again!"

And with that he slammed the frig door shut. He walked toward the front door picking up his coat which was hanging over the back of a chair and his keys that were on the coffee table. He opened the door dreading having to go out that late at night and hoping that he would make it back in one piece. Slowly taking the stairs one at a time he stuck his hands into his coat pockets and begun to think about his life events so far. An after effect of his near death experience, he knew, but doubts still existed, especially those concerning his career choices. Yeah, he was making enough money to keep an apartment, but he didn't really feel like he was cut out for this ghost business like Ray and Egon were. Both the engineer and the physicist were deep into the research part of the work and him? He was just a skeptic. He of course didn't know what happened when you died, but he was sure that you didn't come back as a ghost.

As he went past the first floor and headed down to the lobby door, he wished that he could find some way of getting rich faster. He did think about getting his own practice, but that would take too long. _At least I'm doing better than what my dad is doing, _he thought as he went through the door. As he went out into the cold night air, he felt the soft touch of rain hit the top of his head. _Itwas suppose to clear up, _he thought as he looked up to the darkened sky.

"The gods are cruel," he whispered up to the clouds. Just as the words slipped from his lips, he heard a giant crash from across the street. He ducked behind to stoop that he was on, thinking of what horrible thing he had done in his life to deserve this.

"Can't you guys take a joke up there!" he shouted up again, shaking his fist towards the heavens.

He stayed in that position for a couple of minutes before slowly poking his head up to see what was happening. What he saw almost made him laugh out loud.

Across the street was a person scrawled across the curb of the street, with trash cans toppled over him or her. _Just a bum drunk, _he thought as he stood up dusting himself off and walking off the steps. He looked across the street again and shook his head in spite of himself; to think that he got all worked up over something as dumb as a drunken bum. As he walked across the street he looked toward the body on the curb and something caught his eye. In the person's hand something was reflecting off the streetlight above. He stood at the edge curb squinting his eyes to get a better look at it. The object looked long in length, about 2-3 feet, but it looked thin on the street. _Ok, a drunk bum with a big knife_, he thought. As he looked harder, he saw something else on the ground pooling around the person, some thing red…

"Hey, are you ok over there?" he shouted. "Hey, mister," No response.

Always have to be the nice guy, he thought as he walked closer to the body. About half way to the body he saw the length of the person wasn't that of a grown man. _Maybe he's a midget bum_, he thought as he carefully made his way closer to him. He was sure it was a _him_, at least from this angle. As he made it to the body he saw that the person's clothes were torn and ragged. _Yeah, definitely a bum,_ he thought as he reached out towards the person's shoulder. He pushed softly trying to get the person's attention.

" Hey mister are you ok?" he said softly pushing him once more. Suddenly the head turned in his direction to reveal...

"Jesus, it's a kid," Peter gasped.

Peter got up and saw more clearly the cuts and bruises on the boy's body. He also saw the deep gash on his right arm from were most of the blood was seeping out.

"Man he is really bloody," Peter thought as he removed his coat to wrap it around the boy. The boy moaned as Peter wrapped the coat around him and Peter tried to make sure he stayed awake.

"Hey kid.," Peter yelled to him trying to keep him awake, "Hey kid can you hear me! Hey kid come around!"

"Sensi forgive me for my mistake..."

"What! I couldn't hear you! Kid, kid!" Peter yelled as the boy blacked out.

_Dammit don't be dead," _Peter prayed as he checked the boy's pulse on his neck. "Good still a pulse," he sighed, "he must have just blacked out."

Peter looked both ways down the street. Not a soul in sight, just as he expected. Suddenly he saw the headlights of car coming toward them. _Yes,_ he thought and ran out to the edge of the curb waving his hands like a mad man.

"Hey I got a kid whose badly hurt. Hey pull over, hey, hey!" he yelled as the car streaked down the street. "Might as well run me over while your at it," he shouted.

He looked at the boy's body. It was already soaked and it was getting colder outside. _Got to get him inside or he'll catch pneumonia_, he thought. Peter wrapped the boy more tightly with his coat so the blood wouldn't spill on him. Carefully he hauled the boy over his shoulders and lifted him off the ground.

Peter grunted as he lifted him, "Man whoever you are kid you sure were fed well," Peter remarked as he crossed the street with the boy, "Boy this is some night," he said grabbing the keys from his pocket with his free hand and unlocking the door to the lobby.

Peter unlocked the door to his apartment and entered. His arm hung loose as he gently placed the boy down on the couch. Then he quickly made his way towards the phone. He picked up the receiver just as a thought came to mind. Who was he calling? The police, naw they'll just try him as a criminal just for that sword or because he looks like a trouble maker. Hospital? Yeah right, he did not like the idea of going there twice in one night. The way they worked he would end up with another bill. His mind raced with ideas about who he could trust. Then it hit him, Ray. He quickly dialed Ray's number hoping his friend would pick up the phone as he heard the ring tone. _Come on Francine, pick up the phone, _Peter thought as the phone continued to ring. Peter turned to se the boy more clearly, he was African-American from what he could tell, he didn't look foreign. Tall and thin to his surprise, but with toned muscles and features. He looked to be about twelve at the most. His clothes were totally shredded with cuts, bruises and a couple of gashes. What or who could have done this to a kid? Peter thought. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a phone being picked up. "Hello," Peter said quietly, "Ray, yeah it's me Peter. Yes I know what time it is, look just listen. I need you and Spegs to come hear quick and bring some first aid kits and some of the big bandages that we got from the hospital. Look can you just do it and stop asking questions? I'll explain when you get here."

With that he hung up and walked next to the couch. He saw that the boy was shivering, so he the coat off of him. Peter went into the bathroom and got some hot water and a towel. After coming back with the items he began to clean the cuts on the boys face. The boy seemed to stop shivering a bit as he did so. Peter took pity on the boy; here was a kid who probably was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. Now he was fighting for his life in a stranger's apartment. Thoughts began to race again as Peter continued to clean the boy's cuts and gashes. The room was deftly quiet, suddenly an idea came to him. He remembered that an unconscious person usually reacts to a person talking to them.

"Might as well try," Peter thought aloud, "So, your lucky I found you," Peter began, "I'm usually in the mood for delivery at this time of night, but I thought I would try something different."

The boy made a scowl and turned his head so that it faced the couch. "Hey I am just trying to make a conversation here," Peter replied taken aback with the gesture, "Remember who saved who here." _Yep, just another night_.


End file.
